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thewulf · 3 months

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For That Long? || Aragorn

Summary: Request -Hello! 👋 Your work is absolutely amazing! Especially your Aragorn fics (My King! 🗡️👑❤️) In fact, whenever works best for you, here’s an idea: During the victory celebration at Helm’s Deep, the reader (also a Dunedain Ranger) offers a quick dance lesson for Aragorn to a) enjoy the celebration with him and.... Read Rest Here

A/N: Thank you for the sweetest little request anon! I had too much fun writing this one. I love trying to get into his head. Keep sending amazing requests my way! And thank you for you kind comments!

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k +

TW: fluff?

“Not like that, Strider.” You giggled something fierce as he tripped over his own feet for the umpteenth time that night. Somehow you had convinced him to dance with you after quite literally decades of trying to get him as your partner.

“Have I not already told you how hopeless this is, Callia?” He asked you by your chosen Ranger name. You had to abandon Y/N when you left home all those years ago. If you were captured you must never give up your true name for your family could bear danger to your chosen work.

“You just need to relax yourself. Your mind.” You poked his forehead while grinning from ear to ear.

He sighed, “I cannot keep making a fool of myself in front of…”

You stopped him by placing his hand on your hip catching him most off guard, “My King overthinks.” You whispered as you took a soft step towards him. He smelled good. Like of the woody scent he naturally had but even better.

“I am no King.”

You smiled more to yourself than him, “Not yet. But the people have decided. It be but a mere month and you shall be.”

“It does not feel right hearing you call me that, my lady.” He countered while raising his eyebrows right up waiting for your retaliation.

Trying your best, but failing, you made a face in reaction, “You know I am hardly a lady.”

He hummed. Not even realizing you had begun to lead him you kept talking trying to rid his mind of the thoughts that plagued him. For if there was anybody who knew Strider better than himself it was you. Time had a way of making your heart the softest for him and truly only him. Countless sleepless nights of diving into your worst nightmares and trauma would find a way to bond the two seemingly hopeless souls.

“The opposite is true.” He smiled down at you with a look you had rarely seen from the hardened leader. You had been away from him longer than you wished. He had told you to go to Minas Tirith after getting orders from Gandalf to help the Hobbits of the Shire. You had heard the story of the great Bilbo Baggins and now apparently Strider had to accompany his nephew, Frodo. He had told you to go to Minas Tirith and wait for his word.

That had been six months ago. You had gotten used to life without him how odd it may seem. You had made a few friends that you probably never would have had Strider joined you. It was terribly uncomfortable. Your simple life changed when you had gotten word from him asking you to join him in Rohan. He knew something was coming and needed all the help he could get.

“A lady does not count her kills.” You spoke breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. A shift occurred as he had taken control of the dancing now. Your easy banter all but freeing his mind from his thoughts. Dancing wasn’t so bad. Especially if he got to hold you like this.

“By your definition.” He smirked down but dared not look into your eyes for he knew he would cave to any of your demands, “Not by mine. And did you not say I was to be King?”

You fought every urge in you not to pinch his side, “You are impossible.”

“Do you not refute, my lady?” His smirk only grew as he noticed your face fighting the urge to react. It was amusing watching you try and stay neutral. For he had missed this. Sure, it was not only the two of you dancing but it had felt like it. You had a way of taking his mind off of whatever he needed. You had always seemed to have known what he may have needed.

“It is no use in arguing with you, Aragorn.” You gave him the eye letting him know you were not over the little secret he had kept from you for so long. You had only found out of the name when Legolas shouted it on the battlefield almost costing you your life. It had left you stunned. Who was Aragorn and why had Strider reacted as if it was his name.

Because it was. He had apologized profusely before you finally gave in. Leading you to this moment with him. You had finally convinced him he needed to learn how to properly dance since he was to be the king. And lucky for him you so happened to know many dances as your mother had insisted a girl your age to learn them all those years ago in Dúnedain.

An amused smile crossed his features as he led you across the dance floor. Maybe he was not so pathetic after all, “It is not like you, Callia, to bite your tongue.”

“Hush you.” A laugh escaped you. It was no use trying to hide your own amusement. Yes, he pushed you, but it had also shown you how much he too cared for you.

He slowly stopped the two of you from your dance before replying, “You are most fortunate the music has ended."

A quick nod left you head as it spun out of control by his soft touch and daring words, “Most fortunate indeed.” Begrudgingly you took a step back knowing the moment between the two of you had ended.

But his words had stopped you from turning all the way around, “I will stop teasing you if you lead me in another dance. For I must learn. I do not wish to embarrass you.”

You only grinned before stepping back into his hands, “You could never embarrass me Strider.”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you took in the breathtaking room before you. Stifling a laugh, you couldn’t truly believe you had made it here with him, alive and in one piece. Your truest and oldest friend crowned the King of Gondor. How you would never have believed this only three years prior. You watched as royalty and common people alike danced with joy and glee for their newfound leader. Aragorn. It felt the most surreal as you watched him mingle with people that mattered. A King. Who would’ve thought. Glancing down at your nearly empty glass you sighed knowing you had to make the walk back to get another drink.

But you never made it as you were intercepted by nonother the man you were watching far too often that night, “Strider!” You smiled trying to play it off as nothing as his broad hands covered the length of your forearm with ease, “You best get dancing. You have many eyes on you, my King.” You grinned with ease knowing calling him such made him uncomfortable. You truly had known him as Strider for as long as you could remember. You’d met as teenagers in your youth, kids from Dúnedain.

Your fathers were friends keeping you close together often until he went off on his own. When it came time to leave you had heard Strider was a Ranger. Having a feeling you’d run into him again you weren’t surprised you were assigned to his company not long after you left home to find a purpose. Just like him. In a lot of ways, you were the same. But in so many different.

For the last sixty or so years the two of you became something of a menace in the North. Something to be feared. Always working as a team, the two of you always seemed to come out of battles unscathed.

He grumbled in response to the title name you had used on him, “I have told you not to call me that. It does not feel right hearing those words from you. Strider will do.”

You smiled seeing how you managed to get under his skin with such ease, “Strider is too informal. May I call you Aragorn at least?”

“I think Strider is perfectly formal. But you may call me as you see fit. So long as it is not, my King.” He smiled right back at you. Even he had to admit how nice it was seeing you so at ease. He had roamed the North for nearly sixty years with you. He had never seen you so relaxed. He was sure he had seen you smiling more tonight than he had in the past sixty combined. You smiled like that bright eyed teenager who had an obvious crush on the older teen. It was times like these that made him wish he had told you how he had felt the same. He had longed for you for so long in silence. He had a duty to uphold. But now? Time was different. He needed somebody on his side. He had always known that somebody was you.

You bowed just knowing it would push his nerves further, “As my King wishes, I shall only refer to him as Aragorn.”

His mouth dropped at your brazenness, but he should have known better. He was convinced you were placed with him was to keep hm grounded. You had a certain way about you that had him acting his very best, “Y/N.” He let out an audible sigh letting you know he was annoyed.

“Strider.” You raised an eyebrow as if to challenge him knowing that name was now obsolete in your vocabulary. He was Aragorn now. You could get used to it.

He looked to the dance floor before turning back to you, “Would you join me in a dance?” He held his hand out for you to take giving you your favorite impatient face. It was your favorite thing to do after all, push his buttons.

Your smirk turned up into a genuine smile, “This is a pleasant change. I would be honored to join you in a dance, Aragorn.”

“Are you going to choose a name Callia?” He grumbled as you placed your hand in his. His smile never faltered even though he pretended to be most annoyed by you. It wasn’t lost on your how gently he wrapped his hand around yours before nodding his head to the nearly empty ballroom floor.

You giggled more to yourself knowing how annoyed he was with you. Maybe you should stop winding him up. It was almost too much fun to stop though, “Am I not allowed to interchange two of your many names?” You followed along his lead down to the center of the empty floor.

He stopped once he had found a place good enough. Placed one hand over your hip and one behind your back, “Hands on my shoulders.” His voice dropped nearly an octave as he gave you a simple order. A shiver ran down your side at his touch. This was new for you as well. Sure, you had found him ever so attractive, but he hadn’t the slightest interest in you. Everything was platonic as could be between the two of you. So, you had backed off and kept it cool knowing nothing was ever going to happen.

You did as he wished and wrapped your hands around his neck, far more intimate than you had intended but you were committed now. It would be almost more embarrassing to unwrap yourself from him, “You did not answer my question.” You spoke trying to rid your mind of overthinking this situation you had seemed to find yourself in.

He gave you a grin as his eyes trailed all over your face, “I was only playing with you. You may call me as you please.”

Before you could answer the music started forcing your concentration of following his lead. It was impressive how quickly he had picked up on the steps of the dances you had only taught him only a few times a month ago. It had been a little over a month after the Celebration of Helm’s Deep after the hell that was the battle.

You were almost upset when the music had stopped knowing his hands would soon leave you. It was not right to have these feelings for such a longtime friend. Let alone the King of Gondor. But how could you not? He was Strider the great Ranger of the North. He was Aragorn the leader of the Fellowship. He was the King of Gondor. He was everything.

Fortunate for you he hadn’t move his hands from your waist even as the music stopped, “I do think I should call you Aragorn. It suits your stature. You have outgrown Strider.”

He bowed his head before slowly bringing his eyes up to yours, “Then Aragorn I shall be, my lady.” He was smirking now knowing how much you too loathed the high title he had seemed to start calling you.

With a frustrated breath your eyes narrowed at his, “If you shall call me my lady, then I will call you my King.” You too didn’t enjoy how the high title rolled off his lips. You were anything but a lady even in the dress you protested but had been convinced of.

He let out a breathy chuckle as he finally came back to his senses and let his hands go of your waist. You feared to admit how much you had enjoyed his touch and closeness, “I suppose that is fair, Callia.”

Stepping forward to straighten his collar you could only smile up at him in adoration, “You look very handsome tonight. Who knew you cleaned up so well?”

He took your hand in his once more, “It took a fair bit of work. But I must say, it is you who shines the brightest tonight.”

He had never complimented you so forthright before it drew a small gasp out of your very own mouth, “You are most kind to me. Thank you Aragorn.” You were suddenly thankful you had put some makeup on. You were praying it was covering up the sure-fire pink tint that was bound to be covering your cheeks.

He watched as you turned away from him, “You must get back to your advisor. He looks very weary over in the corner.” You tried a good excuse to walk away from him. He was suddenly becoming too much even for you.

“Wait,” You stopped and turned back to him with that subtle blush coating your face. When you stopped he continued, “Come take a walk with me. I wish to talk with just you.” His darting eyes let you know people were listening, always listening in now that he had such a high title.

“As you wish.” You followed him as he left the hall as discretely as he could.

The two of you had made it all the way to the gardens before he had spoken once more, “I want to thank you, Y/N.” By speaking your true born name, you knew this was serious. There was no playfulness of my lady or the knowing name of Callie. Y/N.

You had no clue where this was coming from. Truly, you rattled your mind for further thoughts before you gave in, “Whatever for?”

He smiled as he led you down the path of roses he had grown fond of in his short time here, “For always being there for me. You have shown up for me time and time yet again.” He paused taking your hand in his before placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. Had he no idea what he was doing to you?

“You are my truest friend.” You answered honestly after a few long moments of trying your hardest not to cave into whatever was taking over your mind. He was your friend! Only a friend. That is all he had ever wanted. He was simply thanking you for the journey. That was all. One chapter of your lives had closed and the next was to begin. You had to wonder where you would end up. In the capital being a guard? Roaming the woodland realms for danger? Head home and care for your aging parents? The choices were endless for your new life.

He let out a short laugh, “For that you are. May I tell you something?”

“Anything.” The response was so automatic it almost took you by surprise.

“If not for you, I would not be here.” He spoke quickly.

It took you much longer to process those words, “What do you mean?”

“If I had not known you would always be there I would not be king.” He smiled as his eyes traced your nervous face. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever known. How had he gotten so lucky with you? And by any other stroke of luck, you would accept his next question that had been weighing heavily on his mind.

“I am not sure what you mean Aragorn.” Your heart rate sped up just a tad as he stepped back from you. He fished something out of his robe pocked. Your eyes went wide as he held an old relic. A beautiful ring covered in gemstones.

“You have always been there for me Y/N. I fear nobody could ever take that place. I wish nobody to take that place. For I am the happiest when I am with you. Those last six months have not been good for me. But now that I am back with you I feel whole once again. There is no lady that could take your place Y/N. For your place is next to me.” The last words to come out of his mouth almost came out as a whisper for even he was nervous. The mighty King of Gondor afraid of some feelings he had almost his entire life. Oh, how his father would be laughing now.

Your heart rate kicked it up another notch. It felt like you had been training it was racing so fast, “Forgive me, I fear I am not enough…”

He stopped you this time though by placing a gentle finger on your lips, “I wish to not hear you speak poorly of yourself. For I do not respect those words. I will never believe them. I do know your entirely Y/N. Please, do me the honor of letting me court you.”

Your breath had been taken from you now, “You like me?” You had managed to get out feeling oddly faint.

“I love you.” He said so effortlessly you weren’t sure you had him quite right.

Your eyes turned up to his as he stepped closer to you, “You love me?”

A quick nod came from his head as his eyes bore right into yours, “I do.”

“I love you, too.” You spoke back before you could let your thoughts get the better of you.

His hands moved to your cheeks as he held you in his own, “For nearly seventy years I have yearned to hear those words from your lips.”

“For that long?” You asked in bewilderment to his statement. How had he kept it from you with such ease? It amazed you he had managed to be so stoic when you had been so obvious. Why had he fought it for so long?

He did what you least expected and bowed down to you, slowly. He had made sure you knew his intention, “I may not have always been wise to it but indeed. I have always loved you.”

You nodded quickly, your smile beaming brighter than ever before. He was sure that was his new favorite look on you, “Yea.”

“Yea?” He asked you as confirmation.

“I accept. I would be honored to stand by your side Aragorn.” Before you could bow to him he caught your chin in his hand shaking his hand to let you know that would be most unnecessary.

“You are doing me the honor.” He fastened the necklace with the ring on your neck tucking it underneath the top of your dress. His hands trailed down your sides resting on your hip for longer than he should have. He needed to take a step back or he would kiss you. Not that you wouldn’t let him, no. He was sure you would be more than happy about it. He simply wanted to charm you before he kissed you. He would not rush into this with you. For he had taken nearly seventy years to admit how he had felt. What was a little longer?

“You made it, Strider. You did it.” You brushed his wavy hair away from his face knowing that would be the last time you referred to him as such. From here forth he would be Aragorn. And you would wed him. How a life you dreamed of had come to fruition was beyond you.

He shook his head grabbing at your hands once more, “We made it. We did it.” He spoke of all the wishes the two of you spoke about in your many long nights. The dreams had seemed to come truer than either of you could have imagined. It almost didn’t feel real.

You nodded with nothing but love in your eyes, “Indeed, we did it.”

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

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Till We Meet Again

Aragorn x plus size reader

No names, no words but a promise to keep.

Warnings: smut, pre-lotr, barmaid!reader, Aragorn is not with Arwen, minimal dialogue, unprotected sex, little bit ooc aragorn, semi-public sex, creampie, one night stand

WC: 1.6k

Minors DNI

Music rang loudly in her ears, making her head throb, but Y/N kept a smile on her face as she wove through the throngs of drunk patrons, arms ladened with half empty mugs of ale. The bottom few inches of her deep green dress had already been soaked with spilled beverages and mud from the patron’s boots.

She despised working in a pub on nights like this but the pay was good and the owner had given her a room for free along with three hot meals a day so she couldn’t complain too much. “More ale!” A voice shouted from the crowd, prompting another deafening cheer.

Slamming her wide hip into the kitchen door, it swung open and Y/N was able to escape the chaos. The sounds of celebration and overly drunk men dulled by the heavy wood but not completely blocked out, providing the dimly lit room with a calming white noise. The wooden cups slammed heavy against the bucket she dumped them in. “I swear they get more rowdy every night.” She muttered to herself.

Quickly, she set to scrubbing the mugs clean, well clean enough, it wasn’t like they would care. As she was elbow deep in soap and water, her mind wandered to the mysterious man that would enter the pub every Thursday night. He would not speak to anyone, simply sit in the furthest corner of the large room, smoking his pipe and drinking. He always wore a dark cloak over his face but once in a blue moon, Y/N would catch a glimpse of his chiseled jaw.

He had enchanted her without so much as saying a word. For hours everyday, she would dream about who he must’ve been. He was too tall to be a dwarf or a hobbit and too broad to be an elf. Yet she had seen no men like him before. She imagined he was a prince or a knight from a far off land, betrayed by his people and destined to wander the world on his own for the rest of his days.

She wondered what his voice sounded like, was it as deep and mysterious as himself? What colour were his eyes? She hoped they were brown, a deep bronze like the bark of the oldest trees in Middle Earth. Gods, what she wouldn’t give to even have his large hands graze her shoulders as he moved by her.

The last of the mugs was hung up to dry. Y/N hauled the container of soapy water, that was now a deep brown, up on her hip, and strolled out of the building’s back door. The cool night air was a reprieve against her warm skin, blowing away the stress of the night. She hummed a soft tune as she tipped the bucket out over the small patch of wild flowers she had planted by the stables a few seasons ago.

There were only a couple horses housed in the small building that night, which meant she didn’t have to double check if they were all tied up. Y/N fitted the now empty bucket in the indent in the grass where it was usually placed.

She turned but her movement was halted by a strong chest. She stumbled back, quickly losing her footing and a large, warm hand took her by the upper arm, keeping her in place. “Oh.” It was the man.

His hood was down and she was able to truly see his face. He was handsome, there was no doubt, with regal features that spoke of a powerful lineage. Dark hair was tied up out of his face, making his eyes shine brightly.

They were blue.

——————

The wood dug painfully into her hips but she could not bring herself to care. Her dress was hiked up over her backside, the soaked hem quickly wetting the middle of her back. Strong hands held her down against the table she was bent over, deep grunts in her ear. Her shoes had been knocked off her feet several minutes ago so now her bare toes dug into the mud as she struggled to take his brutal thrusts.

He had not spoken a word, only having held her gently to him, a muscular arm winding easily around her thick waist as he smiled down at her.

Suddenly, she found herself in the near empty stable, his mouth on hers, their tongues tangled together in a lustful dance. His hands were everywhere at once, guiding her plump body to where he wanted her and evidently, that was with her ass angled up so he could plunge his thick cock deep within her.

His front pressed tightly to her back, their fingers intertwined on the table, his lips against her ear, occasionally pressing kisses to the lobe. Pleasure twisted in her gut, curling and tangling like a ribbon in the wind. His thrusts became a subtle roll of the hips, delaying her orgasm even for a few seconds.

Y/N let out a pitiful whine from deep in her chest as he pulled out, leaving her empty and clenching around nothing. He chuckled softly at the sight but did not tease. Gently, he spun her around and without even a hitch in his breath, lifted her onto the table and stepped between her large thighs.

Green fabric pooled around her hips as he entered her again. Y/N’s head rolled back on her shoulders, struggling to breathe, he seemed even deeper this time. The tip of his manhood moving against something deep within her that made her vision swim and her mind go blank. It was too much and not enough all at once.

Fingers tangled in his surprisingly soft hair, loosening it from the simple braid it was in. Chapped lips descended onto her throat, biting and sucking the delicate skin, leaving huge marks that she would discover later. He easily drove her higher and higher, her quim fluttered around his length as she desperately gasped for air.

The man held her as close as he could, bringing her legs up to wrap around his thin waist, her ankles locking across his ass. Her moans were melodic, getting louder with each thrust. She was burning, the ember deep within her growing to a raging fire, consuming her being. He fuelled the flame and contained it, letting her burn brightly but not so much as to destroy herself.

She was pleading, begging for him as he hung off the edge of ecstasy, needing one more push to finally succumb. A calloused thumb easily fit against her swollen pearl, strumming it like a fine instrument, making her sing. When her orgasm finally crested, it was unlike anything she had ever felt before.

Her body trembled in his embrace, clinging to him like he was an anchor in the storm of pleasure. Her stomach was pulled tight. Rolling her hips, she rode out the waves, grinding down on his cock. His teeth sunk into her pulse point, his breath shaky.

Y/N cried out as his fingers gripped her hips tightly. His cock throbbed within her as his moans filled her ears. She cradled him to her neck, her nose against his temple, inhaling his manly scent, trying to memorise it. “Please.” She whispered. “Please.”

She shivered as he exploded within her, filling her womb with his warmth. The man’s hands slipped down to her full ass and yanked her forward, his softening cock keeping his seed inside her.

They stayed like that for a while, tangled in each other, savouring the silence of the night. With one last, deep kiss, he pulled away, leaving her feeling empty and cold. “Shhh.” He cooed and cupped her jaw in an attempt to sooth her as he pulled her dress back down and lifted her into his arms.

Exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed her. Nuzzling her nose into his neck, Y/N relaxed in his hold. It was comforting, being held like this, like she was the most precious thing in the world. With only a couple strides, he brought her into the backroom, gently laying her on the small cot in the corner.

Eyes heavy with sleep, she allowed him to wrap his cloak around her. Laying a tender kiss to her forehead as she drifted to sleep, he finally spoke. “Im will tul- back an cin nin mel.”

——————

The spring had been kind this year, bringing pleasantly warm weather and fields of newly bloomed flowers. The world was healing after being infected with darkness for so long. Y/N smiled as the warm breeze washed over her.

The windows and doors of her small isolated cabin were thrown open to allow fresh air to blow through the homestead. A small blur ran past her and into the fields of wildflowers, giggling happily in the sunshine. She knew she should warn the child not to run far but she could not bring herself to dull his bright smile.

“Leryaro! Stay close to the house!” She got an affirmative squeal in reply as he danced through the flowers that were almost as tall as himself. He was so much like his father, with his dark hair and blue eyes that seemed to read her soul every time he looked at her. It had been years since the man at the pub and yet she thought of him each time she watched her boy.

“I hope I am not too late.”

Identical blue eyes looked pleadingly at her from her doorway. He looked exactly the same, just a little more tired, a little more worn down. Y/N grinned softly. “You’re just in time.”

Translations: Im will tul- back an cin nin mel - I will come back for you my love Leryaro - free man

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heliads · 1 year

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platonic!aragorn x reader? i requested a bunch of these a while ago and i just adore how you write him. perhaps something in rivendell where the reader is overworking themselves because their productivity is really low so they work longer (bonus points if reader is a writer) and aragorn gets them to relax. ooh and sibling-style banter pls!!!

bonus points?? i didn't realize i was getting points at all this is fantastic

masterlist

Spring is a soothing time, it always has been. Winter is dark and dangerous; the sun sets early and tempers snap quickly, even amongst the elves. Those who claim to only proffer peace can lose it faster than you think. Grey skies spell trouble, early frost kills each and every bloom that thinks itself tenacious enough to come out before its time.

Every winter you think the cold will never end, that warmth and light will stay dead forever. Every spring, you are reminded of the one truth in this world that everyone seems to forget: it will get better from here on out. There will, at some point, be a surrender of darkness, and you will heal. We all will, and we will do it together.

You are remembering that now as you walk through the gardens of Rivendell. Stormy nights made the stone and wood structures look cold with gloom, but with the way the sun shines upon them now, you would think yourself in a wholly different place. This is your home, it has been for the last ten years. You were not an elf born, but you came to their city and they welcomed you anyway. Swords can only do so much good. Sometimes poets and scholars are more necessary than guards.

So you found a place tucked away in glen thickets and stone walkways, so you learned to pursue your craft of words and thoughts until a foreign place felt like home and accepted you as one of its own. No life is easy, not while monsters like orcs and trolls still roam the uncharted territories in between cities, but Rivendell is a peaceful life, and it does good by you.

If you cannot find strife in the danger of fighting for your life, however, you will make it yourself. Resting is a difficult thing, even though it shouldn’t be that way. If you rest too long, you start to think, and if you think, you start to realize that you are technically an outsider here, not born within the stone spirals of Rivendell but of some other place, and that means you must prove that you deserve to stay here for longer. Those who stay must have meaning. What, then, could possibly be yours?

You’re a writer, then. Fine. Could your writing compare to those around you? Even the least of the elves still have centuries on you, so much time to hone their craft. By comparison, your scribblings must look juvenile at best. You’re trying, sure, but effort can only get you so far.

You’ll have to catch up on time, then. That’s doable. It should be, at least. You pour hours into the study of manuscripts and texts in the library, force your quill to paper so many times you think you might as well never lift it up. You may not have time as your virtue, but you can force it to work for you anyway.

The problem is getting your brain to cooperate half as well as your hands. Your pattern of frantic writing starts to wear away from you as you attempt to keep up the pattern from dawn until dusk day after day after day. It is exhausting work, but it shouldn’t be– isn’t this writing, what you decided you wanted to do forever? If you were truly gifted at it, this wouldn’t take so much effort, and it certainly wouldn’t drain you the way that it does. Maybe that is another failing, one more thing that separates you from the elves.

You hadn’t realized others were aware of your inner strife until you got a visitor one month after winter ended. He comes with bloodied hands washed clean, armor placed in an unlocked box for quick access, sword still within reach. Peace does not come easily to him either, son of the North, but it does not come easily to anyone. Aragorn might disguise his torment better than you, though. Or so he pretends.

You were not aware that he was stopping by. Perhaps you should have known, if you had spent more time outside of your study instead of unsuccessfully trying to burn through the latest chapter in your work. Regardless of what you could have learned, the result is the same: your old friend stands in the doorway, shaking his head with mock solemnity even as he fails to hide a grin.

“Y/N, friend, have you ever been able to let yourself enjoy your time here, or must you always suffer yourself to your pages?”

You stand up with a smile and walk over to greet him. “Aragorn, how lovely to see you. What brings you this way?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Tracking business. There are rumors I don’t like about goings-on near Mount Doom, but that’s neither here nor there. Also, I heard that you weren’t doing as well as I would care to imagine.”

You stifle a groan. “You’ve been in contact with Arwen, haven’t you? Tell her she has nothing to worry about.”

“I would if I believed I wasn’t telling her lies,” Aragorn muses, “you seem too tired, my friend. Your brow is lined, your eyes are weary. What is the meaning of this?”

He does not say it angrily, or in any demand for information, just a concern for his friend. It is this and this alone that finally convinces you to open up.

“I need to do it,” you tell him at last, “I need results. I need pages of writing to make up for the fact that I lack the experience of the elves. I may be tired, but I feel like I have to prove that I deserve to be here.”

Aragorn shakes his head, looking surprised. “That cannot be. Who has told you that a person cannot merely live and have that be enough? Not every task must be proven right or proven useful, Y/N. You do not have to outwrite the elves, that truly is impossible. You are here to follow your own path, not theirs.”

You sigh. “It is difficult to not compare my writing with theirs when we live in the same place.”

“I remember that,” Aragorn says thoughtfully, “growing up and learning the way of the sword from elves with many decades already more than me was challenging, but it teaches you things that you would not know from mankind. Do not let them affect you, Y/N, intentionally or not. Only do what you wish to do. That is why you are here, not to do what they can but what you can. That way, they can learn from you as well.”

You run a tired hand across your face. “So you really came all this way to tell me to relax?”

His face splits in a familiar grin. “I figured you would need some advice. Besides, it truly is good to see you. It has been too long since we last spoke.”

You agree with that. “That means you could visit more often, you know, instead of tracking random animals through the wilderness.”

He frowns with pretend indignation. “My tasks are more important than that.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you tease, “you never visit long enough to tell me. And when you are here, you spend all your time following a certain Elf-maiden around. It makes for difficult conversation.”

He laughs. “You’re impossible.”

“Of course I am,” you say gleefully, “that’s why we’re friends. Thank you, though, for your words. I do appreciate them.”

“They are true,” he reminds you, “it is okay to rest. It always will be.”

It is a good message, this. Hard to remember and even harder to practice, but still good. You will try to apply its power in the days to come.

lotr tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @gods-fools-heroes

#aragorn #aragorn imagines #aragorn x reader #aragorn oneshot #strider #strider imagines #strider x reader #strider oneshot #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #lotr oneshot #tolkien #tolkien imagines #tolkien oneshot #lotr aragorn #lotr aragorn imagines #lotr aragorn x reader #lotr aragorn oneshot

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spxllcxstxr · 2 years

Text

An Adventure • A

(Gif not mine)

Request: hi! could i request something where aragorn falls for a performer (like singer or musician?) at a tavern or smth that he passes through semi-frequently? thanks :) — anon

Summary: A conversation with the mysterious ranger at the Prancing Pony leaves you excited for the morning

Warnings: alcohol mention, food and eating mention, uhhh probably some bad middle earth geography and stuff like that but idk

Word Count: 1k

A.N: me?? Writing and posting again???? Sorry for the lateness lmao but I loved this request so I wanted to write it first lmao…, gn!reader…also: because it’s been a while, let me know if you want to be put in a Taglist for any of my fandoms!! Even if you were in one before, just resubmit in my inbox

{ Miluis - lovely one }

•

No matter how many taverns or inns you visit, Bree’s very own Prancing Pony will always be your favorite to perform in. It was the one place, where even as a bard traveling throughout Middle Earth constantly, you could somewhat call home.

The All-Welcome Inn, near the East Road and filled constantly to the brim with rowdy patrons, only ever wanted drinking songs and the Forsaken Inn, east of Bree, only ever wanted solemn songs of war and death. The Prancing Pony was nothing like these.

Butterbur always had a hot meal and good ale flowing for you, gleeful he had a bard to occupy his customers. He paid well and had good lodgings for perfectly for you. The Prancing Pony was the one place you would always come back to.

The smoke of Hobbiton leaf swirls around you making your strokes across the strings of your lute become more languid. You were light on your toes, flitting through the room, twirling hobbits around as they dance and drink and gleefully sing with you.

Men and hobbits cackle at your song, something you picked up near the Misty Mountains—a dwarven mining song translated into common speech from Khuzdul.

Laughs permeate the air mixing with the clangs of metal and smaller conversations.

Your eyes drift to a darkened corner, spotting, once again, the mysterious ranger. You haven’t just met him here in Bree, he’s seen your other performances across Middle Earth, even teaching you a few of his own compositions when in a good enough mood.

His face, as always, is shrouded by his dark cloak and the grey smoke curling from his pipe. A flash of silver eyes meet yours briefly along with a hint of a nod in greeting. You duck your head, glancing down at your fingertips running over your instrument. His intense gaze always had this effect on you.

It’s not long after that drinking tune you’re taking a hot dish courtesy of Butterbur (“my finest meats and cheeses for my very lovely bard!”) to the table the ranger is brooding at.

He’s somehow more mysterious up close; one hand focuses on his pipe while the other traces the rim of his ale, obviously keeping an eye on everyone in the room at all times.

“My dear long-legs, how are you on this fine night?” You jest, over exaggerating with a deep bow before taking the seat across from him.

As smoke pours out of his mouth due to a deep sigh, you can practically see his eye roll beneath the hood.

“Strider,”

“And yet, I prefer long legs,” You sip your ale, slaking the thirst you’ve built up during your performance. “It suits you better,”

A gruff laugh escapes him.

“How are you, (Y/n)? Any tales to tell?” His left hand leaves his mug to rest on the table, his body turns away from the center of the room and instead he focuses on you in every way.

Sometimes, when the smoke from his pipe rises at the perfect time at the perfect height you can see a flicker of his grey eyes, studying you. His gaze makes you shy, it always had. Especially when it flicks ever so slightly to your lips before landing back into your eyes. You’ve met your fair share of men and women and yet no one comes close to this ranger. You may not know his face but you know his mannerisms, his kindness. Having his attention is something you miss when you’re not passing through the same tavern as he is.

“I’m sure any tale I can spin is no better than yours,” You begin to eat. “You have adventures, I have drunken fools.”

You pause, glancing at the patrons of the Prancing Pony, oblivious to this connection in the dark corner.

“Though I do have a soft spot for these drunken fools.”

“Would you like an adventure?” Strider asks softly.

“I would love one…or two…or maybe even three!” You admit. “Most bards tell tales of great expeditions they witness firsthand,” You rest your head in your hand. “They beg and plead with swordsmen and famous outlaws to let them join them. That’s how they get such great material,” You sigh. “I’m not getting any younger so if I want an adventure, I may have become as pathetic as most.”

His lips purse together, plunging the two of you in silence. It’s comfortable though, as most thing with Strider are.

Time ticks on, most patrons leave. Strider continues to be stuck deep in thought and you try not to overthink as to why.

“Join me, miluis,” It’s soft and the Sindarin, which you could never understand, rolls off his tongue so naturally.

“Surely you jest, long legs. I would only be a burden.” You snort. “I barely know how to use a dagger,”

“I can teach you if you wish, and even if you didn’t, you would be no burden.”

The ranger lifts the hood of his cloak just enough so his eyes are visible, the grey gazing into your own.

“Strider—“

“It gets lonely most days, and I would not mind the company, especially in the form of such an esteemed bard and my dear friend (Y/n),”

You swallow, a mixture of nervousness and shyness runs through your veins, you almost don’t know how to respond.

“It would be quite the honor, Strider, especially after those kind words.” Eyes meet once again and smiles are shared, and it’s the widest you’ve ever seen the ranger grin. Your heart pounds at the agreement; you’re going on an adventure, an adventure with Strider himself no less.

“Get some rest, miluis,” Swiftly, he rises from his seat, rough and calloused fingertips just brushing the underside of your cheek bone, sparks igniting at the brief touch. “We have much to plan in the morning.”

Once the ranger turns his back, you gape, your own fingertips brushing where he touched you. You skin tingles still. His hand was warm and while calloused from his many years out in the wilderness, it was comforting, something you would want to feel more of in the future.

Biting your bottom lip, you grab your instrument, hurrying off to your quarters, ready to start the next day.

•

#lord of the rings #lotr #lord of the rings x reader #lotr x reader #Aragorn #strider #Aragorn x reader #strider x reader #lord of the rings fanfic

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picture-avoid · 13 days

Text

https://patricia-093.mxtkh.fun/lh/2PuQ70j

#rock lee #jessie j #dirk strider #happy #sapnap #mikey x reader #genshin x you #crochet #deep quotes #my candy love #contemporary #penny dreadful #euphoria #bd/sm breeding #cuckhubby

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somberauthor · 6 months

Note

Could you write some sleepover headcanons for the beta kids(homestuck) please?

I kinda based these off of me and my friends, so I hope its not too out of character!!

JOHN

Obviously in charge of the movies (much to everyones dismay).

He occasionally brings snacks too. (Snacks meaning full sized cakes that his father made.)

He is the one who usually stays quiet when discussing sleeping positions. He doesn't argue, or make it sexual when sleeping next to someone. He may make it awkward, but not sexual at all.

He'd wake up at the same time as rose would, so before anyone else.

ROSE

Her house is usually where they go for sleepovers, but if her mom is having an exceptionally rough night she'll make an excuse.

She has Kanaya make the pajamas, because everyone agreed it would be nice to have matching pajamas when they have sleep overs.

If there is an extra mattress, she'll insist she take it. She enjoys sleeping on separate beds, because she takes over the entire bed.

As stated with John, she and him wake up first. She usually goes to make food for everyone while John stays and wishes the two left good morning when they wake up.

JADE

She is usually the one who asked everyone if they wanna hang out. And she helps keep conversations going while John starts them.

She sleeps wildly, but doesnt know it. She can and will sleep on top of someone. (She also enjoys cuddling with whoever is nearest to her) ((in a non-romantic way of course)

She also brings stuff so they can have some activities to do. (Like beads, yarn, coloring books, and so on)

She wakes up last, and sleeps like a log. So once she's out she's out

DAVE

He's the one who gets the nitty gritty information. Like when they should arrive, when they'll leave, what they'll be doing, and all that jazz

He sleeps like a log. Not like he sleeps deeply, no, he sleeps without moving. He's scared everyone because of how still he is when sleeping.

He's the one with stories to tell when everyone wakes up, because his dreams can be fucking WILD.

He is pretty easy to wake up, so he wakes up at the sound and smell of Rose cooking.

Also, to everyone being so kind in my ask box thank you!! I teared up reading some of the compliments you guys gave me!

#ao3 #authors #headcanon #homestuck #homestuck x reader #john egbert #dave strider #rose lalonde #jade harley #john egbert x reader #dave strider x reader #rose lalonde x reader #jade harley x reader #reader isnt mentioned

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suddenly-miss-item · 2 days

Text

#minimal #dirk strider #furrydrawing #happy #chris wood #sapnap #taylor york #mikey x reader #stucky x reader #genshin x you

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color-check-budget · 4 days

Text

#beauty and the beast #xavier dolan #dirk strider #happy #sapnap #mikey x reader #genshin x you #sia #owari no seraph #cuckslut #gamecube

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thewulf · 12 days

Text

In the Arms of Fate || Aragorn

Summary: Request - During the war with Sauron, she gets kidnapped and tortured badly by Saruman. Aragorn and the others immediately get on a mission to rescue her and eventually find her barely alive... Read Rest Here

A/N: This was tough to write but I really like how it turned out. Thank you for the amazing requests anon, hope you all enjoy!

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,600 +

TW: talks of torture, pain, reader gets taken, general LOTR triggers

In the middle of the raging war against Sauron you found yourself drawn to the Fellowship not only by fate but by your own unique blend of skills and qualities that made you an indispensable member of the group. Aragorn quickly recognized your unwavering loyalty and the depth of your courage. He insisted on your inclusion in the Fellowship. He saw in you a kindred spirit as someone who shared his determination to see the quest through to the end.

Your skills were varied and essential to the success of the Fellowship. As a seasoned fighter you were proficient in various forms of combat. You sported weapons with precision and grace. But it wasn't just your prowess on the battlefield that set you apart. It was also your keen intellect and quick thinking that made you invaluable to the group. You possessed a sharp mind and a strategic approach to problem-solving, often providing crucial insights and solutions during moments of peril. Even Legolas looked to you for guidance from time to time.

Gimli was initially skeptical of your presence in the Fellowship. But even he soon came to appreciate the depth of your skills and the strength of your character. Your friendship with him grew as you shared stories of battles fought and victories won. You formed a bond that transcended the differences between your races. Together you and Gimli formed a formidable duo. Your strengths complementing each other in ways that made the Fellowship stronger as a whole.

With Legolas, your relationship was characterized by playful banter and teasing exchanges. From the moment you met there was a natural rapport between you. It was like a shared understanding that lent itself to lighthearted jests and witty banter. Legolas never missed an opportunity to tease you. His playful remarks eliciting laughter and smiles even in the darkest of times. Despite the teasing there was a deep form of friendship between you. Formed through shared experiences and mutual respect. He loved to tease you, especially about a certain ranger that had captured your heart with ease. It was on one particular eve that Legolas had let you know that he knew too. He wasn’t blind. He caught your longing looks. But he too caught Aragorn staring right back at you.

The evening was alive with the crackling of the campfire and the soft rustle of the forest around you. As you sat beside the fire completely lost in thought, Legolas approached with his characteristic grace, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Ah, Y/N, lost in thought again?" he remarked. A teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. And he likely did.

You chuckled softly turning to face him. "Just contemplating our next move," you replied, though your thoughts were anything but focused on strategy. Instead, they drifted to a certain ranger sitting across the way who occupied far too much space in your mind.

Legolas arched an eyebrow, his keen gaze fixing on you with knowing amusement. "Or perhaps," he suggested with a knowing smirk, "you're pondering a particular king’s pining for you?"

Your cheeks flushed crimson at his words, and you sputtered in protest. "Wha—no, Legolas, you're imagining things," you stammered. It was a terrible attempt to brush off his teasing with a nervous laugh.

But Legolas only chuckled. His soft laughter mingling with the gentle crackle of the fire. "Oh, come now, Y/N,” he teased, his tone light and playful. "Even the trees can see the way he looks at you. And you him. It's as clear as the stars in the night sky."

You rolled your eyes. Though a part of you couldn't help but wonder if there was a kernel of truth to Legolas's jests. Aragorn's lingering glances and subtle gestures had not gone unnoticed by you. Though you had dismissed them as mere figments of your imagination. "He's just... concerned for my well-being, that's all," you insisted, though doubt lingered in the back of your mind. "We're friends, nothing more."

Legolas's smile widened as his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Of course, Y/N," he replied. His tone dripping with elvish sarcasm. "Just friends."

As he walked away quiet as ever leaving you to figure out you conflicting emotions, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there was more truth to Legolas's teasing than you dared to admit. But for now, you pushed aside your doubts instead focusing on the task at hand and the challenges that lay ahead. You couldn’t let that distract you of all things. You had Hobbits to find after all.

As for Aragorn, the dynamics of your relationship were markedly different. From the moment he laid eyes on you Aragorn was captivated by your strength, courage, and insane determination. He found himself drawn to you in a way he couldn't fully explain. His heart skipping a beat whenever you were near. Despite his stoic demeanor Aragorn found himself unable to hide his feelings for you. His affection and admiration shining through in subtle gestures and meaningful glances. Whether it was a reassuring touch on the shoulder or a lingering gaze across the campfire Aragorn's love for you was evident to all who knew him. Maybe except for you.

And though you tried to hide it, the effect he had on you was undeniable. Your cheeks would flush with color whenever he spoke. Your heart deciding to skip a beat at the mere sound of his voice. Despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of composure Aragorn had a way of unraveling your defenses. His presence stirring emotions within you that you struggled to contain.

The Battle of Helm's Deep raged on with unrelenting ferocity. The clash of steel and the roar of orcs echoing through the valley. As darkness descended upon the fortress you stood shoulder to shoulder with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. Your heart was pounding with adrenaline, determination, and a touch of fear.

Together, you fought valiantly against the relentless tide of enemies. Your blades flashing in the dim light as you defended the walls of Helm's Deep with all your strength. But as the battle wore on fatigue began to set in and the odds seemed increasingly insurmountable. In the chaos of the fray the enemy's forces surged forward with renewed fury. You were overwhelmed. The defenders of Helm's Deep were overwhelmed with their sheer numbers. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli fought with unmatched skill and valor. Their resolve unbroken even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.

In the middle the chaos and confusion tragedy struck for you. As the defenders of Helm's Deep rallied for one final stand you found yourself separated from your companions. Unfortunately surrounded by a horde of wargs and orcs. With grim determination you fought with all your might. Every strike of your blade a desperate attempt to fend off the encroaching darkness.

But it was not enough.

As the enemy closed in around you completely overwhelming you with their sheer numbers, you felt a surge of despair wash over you. Your strength faltered and your movements began growing sluggish as exhaustion threatened to consume you whole. And then in a moment of cruel fate you were seized by the snarling jaws of a warg. You were dragged away from the safety of the fortress just as the offenders began to retreat. You were a prize.

Aragorn's heart constricted with dread as he watched helplessly from afar. His voice lost amidst the din of battle as he called out your name in desperation. His pleas were a cruel reminder of how quickly things could change. With every fiber of his being he longed to rush to your aid. To fight tooth and nail to rescue you from the clutches of the enemy. But the tide of battle had turned, and he had no time to rush after you for he would likely die in the cause.

And so, as Helm's Deep fell silent in the wake of the enemy's retreat. Aragorn's heart weighed heavy with grief and guilt. For though the battle had been won. The cost had been immeasurable. And the fate of his beloved remained uncertain, lost amidst the darkness that lurked beyond the walls of Helm's Deep.

In the grim depths of Saruman's fortress, you endured unspeakable torment at the hands of your captors. From the moment they laid hands on you their cruelty knew no bounds. Their twisted minds delighting in the suffering they inflicted upon you. They reveled in your screams of agony. Their laughter echoing off the cold stone walls as they subjected you to unimaginable pain and suffering. Every blow, every cut, every moment of pain was a sickening game to them. A twisted form of entertainment that they relished with sadistic glee.

But despite their best efforts to break your spirit you refused to fold. With every fiber of your being you clung to life with a tenacity that defied comprehension. You endured their tortures with a steely resolve. Your will to survive burning bright even in the darkest of moments. They tried their best to break you. To strip away your humanity and reduce you to nothing more than a shell of your former self. But still you fought on. Your spirit unbroken even as your body bore the scars of their cruelty.

In the depths of despair, you found a flicker of hope—a tiny ember of defiance that refused to be extinguished. And though they tried to snuff it out. To drown it in a sea of pain and despair, still it burned bright within you. It was Aragorn. He was your salvation. Your thoughts that brought light within your darkness. You couldn’t break. Not when you knew was alive and fighting to see you again.

And so, as the minutes turned into days and the days turned into weeks, you clung to life with a determination that seemed to defy reason. For though they sought to destroy you. To crush your spirit beneath their heel. Still, you refused to surrender, your will to survive burning bright even in the face of unspeakable evil. You began to worry they may tire of you. That they may get bored and kill you despite your efforts to survive.

In the grim confines of Saruman's fortress sustenance was a meager and scarce commodity, doled out sparingly by your captors. Each day you received barely enough to sustain your frail body. The meager rations serving as a cruel reminder of your dire circumstances. The food was tasteless. The water stagnant and foul. Yet you choked it down with grim determination. You did it in hopes of seeing Aragorn again. Maybe just maybe you could confess your love to him for this journey made you finally realize your feelings for him.

You couldn't bear the thought of leaving this world laying bare the depths of your heart and soul to him. And so, even as your body grew weak and your spirit faltered, you held fast to the hope that one day, somehow, you would find your way back to him.

As the news of Saruman's demise spread throughout Middle earth a small bit of hope rose within the hearts of those who had suffered under his tyranny. For you, however, trapped within the depths of Orthanc's dungeons, the passing of the once-great wizard brought no relief from your torment.

Barely clinging to life as your body was ravaged by weeks of unspeakable suffering. You lay in darkness your breaths shallow and labored. Each passing moment felt like an eternity as you teetered on the brink of oblivion. Your spirit beginning to falter by the weight of despair.

But in the cruelty of the shadows that engulfed you a faint whisper of hope stirred within your soul—a feeling, a sensation that you couldn't quite explain. It was as if a part of you knew deep down that your salvation was at hand. That somehow, someway, your beloved Aragorn was close and would come for you.

And come for you he did.

Driven by a gnawing sense of unease. A feeling that he couldn't shake, Aragorn ventured into the depths of Orthanc. His heart weighed heavy with dread and determination. Guided by instinct and a love that knew no bounds he searched tirelessly for any sign of your presence. His footsteps echoing through the cold stone corridors as it laid eerily quiet at Saruman’s demise.

And then, at long last, he found you.

Tucked away in the darkest recesses of the dungeons, barely visible amidst the shadows, lay your frail form. Your breaths barely there, faint. Aragorn's heart constricted with anguish at the sight of you, his beloved, so close to the brink of death.

With trembling hands and a voice choked with emotion. Aragorn gathered you into his arms. He cradled you against his chest as if he could shield you from the darkness that threatened to take you from him. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he whispered words of love and reassurance. His voice was a soothing balm to your battered soul.

As he held you in his arms as gently as he could he broke down. "Gandalf! Legolas! Gimli! Anyone, help!" His cries reverberated through the silent halls of Orthanc. Each plea in desperation for your salvation. He cried for someone to come to your aid.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he cradled you against his chest, his heart breaking at the sight of you—so frail, so vulnerable, so close to slipping away from him forever. He whispered for you to hold on. His voice raw with emotion as he begged you to stay with him just a little while longer. But you remained unconscious. Your breaths shallow and labored, your life hanging by the slimmest of threads.

As Aragorn's desperate calls for help echoed through the halls of Orthanc. His heart broke with fear and anguish. Though finally his cries were answered. Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli came running, drawn by the urgency and desperation in Aragorn's voice. Their faces paled at the sight that greeted them. Your frail form cradled in Aragorn's arms, barely clinging to life.

Gimli, his usually stoic demeanor crumbling in the face of such tragedy, sank to his knees beside you. His heart heavy with sorrow. "By the beard of Durin," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "What have they done to you, lass?"

Legolas with eyes wide of shock and horror, approached tentatively. His usual grace replaced by a raw vulnerability as tears welled in his eyes. "Nay, this cannot be," he whispered. His voice trembling with grief. "Not Y/N... not like this."

Gandalf had a grave expression on his face as he stepped forward. His gaze piercing as he took in the extent of your injuries. "We must act swiftly," he declared. His voice commanding. "There is still hope, but time is of the essence."

With a sense of urgency, they rallied together. Their hearts heavy with grief but their resolve unyielding. With shaking hands Aragorn carried you from the depths of Orthanc, his footsteps echoing heavy through the silent halls as they emerged into the light of day.

As time grew short and the urgency of the situation became increasingly apparent, Gandalf knew that swift action was needed to save you. With a wave of his staff and a word of command he called forth one of the Great Eagles. Ancient creatures who served as allies to the free peoples of middle earth.

As Gandalf summons the Great Eagle to take you to Lothlórien Aragorn's determination to stay by your side remained unyielding. With a glance at the rest of the Fellowship he knew that their journey will be swift on horseback as the Great Eagle could not carry them all.

"Aragorn," Gandalf begins, his voice carrying a sense of urgency, "time is of the essence. We must act swiftly to save Y/N."

Aragorn nods solemnly, his gaze unwavering as he turns to Gandalf. "I will take her on the eagle to ensure she receives the care she needs. The rest of you must ride with haste to Lothlórien. I will meet you there." Gandalf and the others exchange a knowing look. Understanding the weight of Aragorn's decision. With a nod of agreement Gandalf turned to the rest of the Fellowship.

"We ride for Lothlórien," Gandalf declares, his voice echoing with authority. "May the Valar watch over us all."

As Aragorn carries you in his arms and mounts the Great Eagle the rest of the Fellowship saddles their horses and sets off towards Lothlórien knowing it would delay their plans to get to Mordor. But for you they knew they had to. With a sense of urgency driving them forward they rode with haste. Their hearts heavy with worry yet filled with hope that you will receive the care and healing you so desperately need.

After what felt like a lifetime to Aragon Great Eagle descended upon the lush treetops of Lothlórien. Aragorn's urgent pleas for help echo through the elven realm. Celeborn alerted by the urgency in Aragorn's voice, rushed forward from the heart of Lothlórien.

With swift steps, Celeborn reaches Aragorn's side just as the eagle touched down. He sees the urgency in Aragorn's eyes and the battered state of your body and without a moment's hesitation he takes you from Aragorn's arms. His expression a mix of concern and determination.

"Bring her to me," Celeborn commands. His voice carrying an air of authority.

Aragorn watches with a mixture of relief and apprehension as Celeborn rushes towards the healing chambers of Lothlórien. His skilled hands cradling you gently. With each step Aragorn's heart pounds with worry, but he knows that you are in good hands.

As Celeborn disappears into the depths of Lothlórien Aragorn's thoughts turn to the rest of the Fellowship who are still traveling on horseback. He knows that they will arrive soon with their hearts heavy with concern for you. He worried for you. For Frodo and Sam who were continuing their journey ahead. For the delay all of this brought. But he couldn’t seem to care about that all knowing the woman he loved was on the brink of death. The woman who was always so full of life may be taken from him far too soon. Before he could confess his true feelings.

With a silent prayer on his lips, he followed Celeborn into the healing chambers. His determination to see you healed burning brighter than ever. And as he stands vigil by your side surrounded by the gentle beauty of Lothlórien, he knows that though the road ahead may be long and fraught with peril. But together you will face whatever challenges come your way

As hours pass in Lothlórien, Celeborn's efforts to heal you are met with frustratingly little progress. Despite his skill and knowledge your condition remains unchanged. Leaving both him and Aragorn filled with growing despair. Realizing that more drastic measures are needed, Celeborn calls upon his wife, Galadriel, for assistance. Together they work tirelessly through the and night. Their combined powers focused on bringing you back from the darkness of unconsciousness.

Aragorn watched with a heavy heart as Galadriel joins Celeborn in the healing chambers. Her presence a glimmer of hope amidst the peril that threatened to consume him. He knows that if anyone can help you it is the Lady of the Wood, with all her wisdom and grace.

Days turn into nights and still you remain unresponsive. You were lost in a realm of unconsciousness from which you seem unable to awaken. Aragorn's faith began to waver. His heart heavy with doubt and fear as he watches Galadriel and Celeborn work tirelessly to save you. But just when all seems lost, a miracle occurred. After a few days of ceaseless effort, Galadriel kneels beside your bedside and offers a rare prayer to the Valar. Her voice is soft but filled with conviction as she calls upon their aid. Her plea echoing through the halls of Lothlórien.

And then as if in response to her prayer, you stir from your slumber. Your eyes fluttering open for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Aragorn's heart leapt with joy as he watches you awaken. His faith restored in the power of love.

With tears of relief streaming down his cheeks, Aragorn gathers you into his arms. Holding you close as he whispers words of gratitude and love. As you lay there finally awake but still weak and fragile, Aragorn's emotions overwhelm him. Tears stream down his face as he gathers you into his arms holding you close with a fierce, desperate grip but gentle so not to hurt you further.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "I love you more than words can express, my love. You cannot leave me again. Please, never leave me again. Please."

His words are a plea. A prayer whispered into the stillness of the healing chambers. His heart ached with the fear of losing you. The fear of facing a world without the light of your presence beside him. And as he holds you close, his tears mingling with yours. He knew that he would give anything to keep you safe. To protect you from harm. As he pours out his heart to you, he realizes just how much you mean to him—how much he needs you by his side, now and always.

"You love me?" you whisper. Your voice barely above a breath as you look up at him, your eyes searching his for confirmation.

Aragorn's laughter fills the air. A warm and comforting sound that washes over you like sunlight breaking through the clouds. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"Did I not make it so obvious my wayward love?" he replies, his voice teasing yet tender as he meets your gaze with a smile.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at his words. You can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. Galadriel and Celeborn who have been observing the exchange with amusement, share a knowing look, their eyes twinkling with mirth of the love unfolding before them.

But in that moment as you gaze into Aragorn's eyes and share a laugh together all your worries and fears seem to melt away. For in his arms surrounded by the love and support of your companion, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead you will face them with him. Your beloved.

And as the laughter fades into a comfortable silence, you rest your head against Aragorn's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. With his arms wrapped around you, you know that you are home.

As Celeborn and Galadriel summon the rest of the Fellowship, the healing chambers soon fill with the familiar faces of your companions. Their expressions a mix of relief and joy at the sight of you awake, alive and with that smile adorning your soft features.

Gimli with his gruff exterior softened by the depth of his concern, rushes forward to your side. His eyes were brimming with tears. "By Durin's beard, lass! I thought I'd never see you awake again," he exclaims, his voice trembling with emotion as he clasps your hand tightly in his own.

Gandalf had his wise eyes shining with warmth, approaches with a gentle smile. "It is good to see you awake, my dear friend," he spoke. His voice filled with genuine relief. "You have faced darkness and emerged victorious. You are stronger than you will ever know."

Legolas, his fair face radiant with joy, stepped forward with a soft smile. "I am glad to see you awake, mellon nin," he smiled to you. His voice gentle and sincere. "The world is a brighter place with you in it."

Merry and Pippin, their youthful exuberance infectious as always rush to your side with wide smiles on their faces. "You had us worried there for a moment," Merry says, his voice filled with relief. "But you're back with us now and that's all that matters."

Pippin nods eagerly as his eyes shining with unshed tears. "We thought we'd lost you," he admits, his voice wavering with emotion. "But you're a fighter, just like Aragorn said. You'll always come back to us."

As the Fellowship gathers around you with their voices filled with laughter and tears. You felt a profound sense of gratitude wash over you. As you were surrounded by the love and support of your friends you know that no matter what trials may come your way you will always have each other.

As the night descended upon Lothlórien after you woke, Aragorn remained by your side as the rest of the Fellowship retired. His love and devotion unwavering as he tends to your every need.

With gentle hands he washes away the grime and dirt of your ordeal away. His touch tender and reassuring against your skin. He cleanses away the scars of battle as his fingers trace each line and mark with care, as if trying to erase the memories of pain that linger there.

As he helps you change into fresh clothes his gaze never strays from yours. His eyes were filled with an intensity of emotion that took your breath away. He spoke softly. His voice a soothing melody that fills the silence of the healing chambers.

"You are my light in the dark," he whispered softly to you. His words a declaration of love that echoes in the stillness of the night. "You are the reason I fight, the reason I endure. Without you I am lost my love."

Tears fill your eyes at his words. The depth of his love overwhelming in its intensity. "And you are mine," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you reach out to touch his face. "You are the reason I am alive, the reason I kept going. Even in the worst of times."

As the soft glow of moonlight filters through the canopy of leaves above Aragorn's adoration for you seems to shine even brighter. With every touch, every whispered word, he worships you as if you were a goddess descended from the heavens themselves.

He kneels before you, his eyes alight with reverence. He places gentle kisses upon your hands, your cheeks, your forehead, as if each kiss is a silent prayer to the gods, thanking them for blessing him with your presence. Thanking them for letting you live.

"I am unworthy of your love," he murmurs. His voice filled with sincerity as he gazes up at you with awe. "But I swear to you, I will spend every moment of my life trying to prove myself worthy of you."

His words melt your heart. Filling you with a warmth that spreads from the tips of your fingers to the depths of your soul. You reach out to cup his face in your hands, tracing the lines of his jaw with your fingers. Feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath your touch.

"You are more than worthy," you whisper, your voice barely a breath as you gaze into his eyes, seeing the depth of his love reflected back at you. "You are my everything, Aragorn. Without you I am nothing."

As you hold each other close surrounded by the quiet beauty of the elven realm. You know that nothing in this world could ever tear you apart. For in each other's arms, you have found a love that transcends time and space. A love that is as boundless as the stars themselves and as enduring as the ages to come.

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